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A blog about leaving the city and a certain state of mind.
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A Spider and Her Thousand Babieshttps://leavinthebigsmoke.wordpress.com/2015/05/20/a-spider-and-her-thousand-babies/
https://leavinthebigsmoke.wordpress.com/2015/05/20/a-spider-and-her-thousand-babies/#commentsWed, 20 May 2015 12:34:15 +0000http://leavinthebigsmoke.wordpress.com/?p=781This morning I noticed a small brown spider, about the size of my little fingernail, sitting under a windowsill.

Upon closer inspection I saw she was sitting on an egg sac that was as big as her.

Cute though she was, I didn’t particularly want one thousand of her babies crawling around the house, so carefully I put the egg sac on a piece of paper, took it outside into the garden and carefully placed her and the sac on a branch of rosemary.

There was me – a big, huge giant, the equivalent of you or me being picked up by a skyscraper. What did she do? Did she crawl away and hide? No, she held firm to her egg sac.

It got me thinking… about love; and instinct.

That mother spider was willing to lay down her life for those babies. Is that unconditional love? Or an encoded reflex to ensure the continuation of her genetics? When my boys ask how much I love them, I tell them I’d jump in front of a train if I had to. What about that?

Is love a rational, spiritual, essentially human phenomenon? Is there even such a thing as unconditional love? Or is it simple instinct? Perhaps we’re not as removed from the rest of the animal kingdom as we like to think.

Later, I went back to check on the family and discovered that Mrs Spider had disappeared.

I couldn’t find her anywhere. Had she abandoned them, and thus shot my theory to pieces? Or had she been eaten by a bird or a lizard? I would never know.

Meanwhile the little baby spiders had started to emerge from their spider womb, all legs and translucent exploration. Some had pulled their rip chords and were hanging from their spinnerets, swaying in the breeze, waiting to be carried off to distant lands; or plants at least.

But Mothership was being attacked by ants. A few were crawling over it, trying to get at the babies. Others were chasing after babies on the run. One poor baby had been caught by two ants who appeared to be playing tug-of-war with it.

I was shocked. I felt responsible for those babies.

How could that sac go from the loving embrace of eight legs, full of motherly love, to the invasion of six legged killers?

But that’s my judgement, from my perspective. If I was on the ants’ side I’d consider that they had a whole village of ants to feed, and genocide on their conscience if they failed to provide.

In this case my allegiance lay with the spider babies, so I carefully picked up the sac, brushed off the ants and moved it to another plant. I stayed and watched for a while to make sure there were no other ants in the vicinity.

Here the threat wasn’t ants, it was other spiders. I’d clearly encroached on the territory of a small black, very aggressive spider. Though it was no bigger than the babies, it started engaging in mortal combat with one. I carefully moved little Mr Wrestle Mania… Hopefully not into someone else’s ‘hood.

With the sac of refugee spider babies now given asylum on another branch, I went back to my pondering… They weren’t my babies. They didn’t contain my genetics. So why did I care about them? Why did I feel responsible for them?

Maybe this is proof of that mysterious force we label unconditional love… I.e. Love for love’s sake, with no expectations, demands or conditions.

And maybe love is neither rational or instinctive. Maybe it’s something completely its own, or maybe its both.

Each year, when it’s my birthday I develop a princess complex. I feel like the world should stop and put on a parade because it’s the day that I was born… Now doesn’t that sound egotistical. Gosh, putting it down on the page I realize how far I have to go in my yoga quest for enlightenment. If its to be found on top of Everest, I’m still wading through the swamps of Bangladesh. Hrmph.

So anyway, despite the world not flash mobbing me and turning my day into a musical, set in Brazil during Carnival, I did have a lovely morning.

My two gorgeous sons made me cards and gave me presents and cuddles. And my man spoilt me too. My parents and sisters called me to wish me a happy birthday and lots of friends txted or fb’d me their wishes. OK, so really the day was getting off to a wonderful start.

We spent the morning playing in the ocean, soaking up some vitamin D, ate nachos for lunch and then went to the flicks…

Still no parade in sight but I was hanging with my boys and had spent the morning in the sun. I thought I was going ok… Then we bought the wrong tickets, had to go back and get new ones, pay more, run late… It was no big deal of itself but it was a straw and the camel’s back was broke.

All the emotion that I hadn’t realised was there came pouring out. We were seated, waiting for the movie to start (in the dark thankfully) and I started sobbing. My man asked me what was wrong. I had to think about it. There were so many layers. I was having a birthday freak out. I had this overwhelming feeling of being extremely; well… mediocre. I started thinking about my past, all the fuck ups, regrets, things I’d wished I’d done; worry about the present; children to support; a business to promote; a relationship to navigate, and a future to aspire to.

It all came crashing down on me like a ton of Bangladeshi delta water. I was spiraling down, down, down into the murky depths and darkness. I sat there for the next few minutes letting the tears come, sobbing, my man holding my hand and giving it comforting squeezes. And thankfully my boys were oblivious, eyes on the movie.

It lasted about 10 minutes, and then finally I broke free of the swirling eddie and started swimming for the surface. At first it still looked murky and turbulent. My heart was beating fast and my emotions were still chaos. I took some deep breaths and slowly, I began to relax.

The movie (Paper Planes) was cute, bit of a tearjerker actually; and funny; and heartwarming. Exactly what I needed.

The pressure had been released and I floated through the rest of the day like a leaf on top of that delta.

After the movie we swam in the ocean again and then sat in the park chatting and playing with the kids. I found a big fluffy feather; a plume and stuck it in my hat. And also a big diamond. One of my sons bit down on it to give it the authenticity test. It made a kind of squeaking sound, so there is a slight chance it could have been plastic.

…Feathers and diamantes… Looking a lot like mardi gras around here! I like to think the world did put on a party for me; in another dimension. And these two small tokens made their way to me.

And, that whole existential freak-out from earlier in the day? Well… Frank said it best:

Regrets, I’ve had a few:
But then again, too few to mention.
…
And more, much more than this,
I did it my way!

It’s been so rainy and humid I can’t get my washing dry. Yesterday I ventured to the Laundromat. I don’t go often so it turned into an adventure.

It was busy. I guess no one can get their washing dry. It was unexpectedly pleasant sitting reading my book, and satisfying watching the clothes spin around the huge industrial dryers. The joint must love this weather. There’s always an upside to everything.

There was a whole row of dryers tumbling over and over with mesmerizing rhythm. I noticed the colour combinations of everyone’s clothes and wondered if you could judge a person by their laundry. I watched one woman put her load in. Mostly yellows and pinks. She was wearing pink so I thought I was onto something. Other loads were darker. Denims and blacks. But mine was mostly white and pink towels and I am a green person. So maybe you can’t define someone by their dryer load after all.

Man in a dryer

I took a picture of one of the dryers. In this picture you can see an elderly man sitting in the reflection. It looks like he’s inside, his life rolling and drying around him. I wonder how long he’s been coming here? I’m drawing the assumption he’s either a widower or a lifelong bachelor. But maybe he just likes it here. Watching those dryers is very hypnotizing.

A woman arrived. There were no free dryers. She asked me if I thought it would be okay to take someone’s drying out. I’ve never thought about Laundromat etiquette. I’m not sure. There are so many times in life when there are no set rules. Like how many times is it acceptable to ask for someone’s name when you forget? I go for once. How about you?

I tell her I don’t see why not as long as the washing is dry. But then I think to myself, I wouldn’t want someone’s random hands all over my clean washing. Eventually her husband turns up and she repeats the predicament to him. She gets the validation she’s needing and proceeds to haul the washing out into a miscellaneous basket.

I wonder what Laundromat etiquette would decree? Was it wrong for her to take the clothes out, or was it wrong for the person to leave their washing unattended? I know it’s not important, but my brain enjoys these trivial questions. What do you think?

]]>https://leavinthebigsmoke.wordpress.com/2012/01/27/laundromat-etiquette/feed/2Laundromat EtiquetteleavinthebigsmokeLaundromat EtiquetteMan in a dryerCreativity: The Work of the Possessed?https://leavinthebigsmoke.wordpress.com/2012/01/17/creativity-the-work-of-the-possessed/
https://leavinthebigsmoke.wordpress.com/2012/01/17/creativity-the-work-of-the-possessed/#respondTue, 17 Jan 2012 04:00:11 +0000http://leavinthebigsmoke.wordpress.com/?p=720

I’ve had a month off business as usual with limited screen time. It’s been a time filled with family, holidays, nature and special moments.

Aside from daily journal scribbles I did no other form of writing for an entire month! For the past week I’ve been back in the writing saddle, writing daily. At first nothing wanted to come out. I felt my writing muscles had become weak.

Although it was a lovely rest and special time with special people, when I at last attempted to form some coherent thoughts to write down I noticed my brain felt scrambled. Like it needed a good spring clean.

For the first couple of days either nothing wanted to come out or what did should have stayed where it came from… Most likely the nook in my brain, just like in my house, where collections of miscellaneous items congregate… Do you have one of those?

On about day three I woke up with thoughts buzzing around me. Fantastic! I jumped out of bed to do my normal morning Yoga practice intending to start writing straight after. But I just could not concentrate. My heart was even beating faster than normal.

Eventually I could stand it no longer. I got up and jotted down all the thoughts in my head. No wordsmithing, just bullet points and words that I knew would trigger my memory later. After that, my mind was at peace and I was able to concentrate on my Yoga practice.

Afterwards, as soon as I started writing, ideas and words streamed out of me. It got me thinking about creativity. What was with the scrambled brain feeling? The difficulty getting started? Was it weakened ‘writing muscles’, lost neural pathways, or was it something else? Something external?

What is that sudden burst of inspiration after a period of difficulty? Where does it come from?

Ruth Stone

The poet Ruth Stone said of her poems: “I never felt that I wrote them anyways. I would feel them coming from way off, and then they would come toward me, and if I didn’t catch them they went through me and went on, so I just figured they were part of the universe, and not me.”

I wrote a blog about creative genius a while back. I referred to Elizabeth Gilbert’s (Author of “Eat, Pray, Love”) TED talk on creativity being more of a genie than genius. A sprite of creativity that flutters in. You have to catch it. Otherwise it is lost.

She referred to interviews she’d done with Ruth Stone and Tom Waits. Ruth spoke of sometimes catching the poem by the tail and having to write it down backwards. Tom talked about telling the ‘sprite’ to come back at a more convenient time (if he was driving for example).

Is creativity a genie and are we merely channels?

I agree with this to an extent, but I also think creativity comes from our unique, personal life experiences. And that is what makes for ‘good’ art… Personal self expression from the artist.

BUT, if an idea strikes, and I can feel it as inspiration, I get a flutter in my stomach and a zap of energy in my head… If I don’t write it down… Pft!! It’s gone. So perhaps it is more genie than genius.

A few nights ago I watched a great TED Talk by Graham Hill titled ‘Less Stuff, More Happiness’. He spoke about ‘editing’ your life to make room for the good stuff.

Graham relates it largely to possessions and living space. In it he’s sitting on a box and tells his audience although he has no idea what’s in it he’s moved it from house to house for years… I’m sure you can relate to that. I know I can. I still have university essays, a box full of gift cards dating since forever, and a bag of old dresses that my grandma gave me. They don’t fit me but I just can’t bear to get rid of them…

You know how some people say they are terrible with plants; the opposite of green-thumbs? Many of my friends tell me this. It mystifies me. I just think well if you water them, and give them some light then they’ll be fine. And my plants thrive.

Fish KillerHowever I am a fish killer. Goldfish killer that is. I just can’t seem to keep them alive. I don’t know why. I feed them (not too much), I clean their tank regularly (but not too regularly as I was told not to do), I check the ph (it’s always green), I put the drops of whatever it is you’re supposed to use into the top-up water, the tank has a filter and is near a window so that they get light but not too much direct light. Hell, I even talk to them and tell them I like having them around.

Sounds like I’ve got it nailed right? Well I damn well haven’t. They keep dying on me. In the past six months I’ve killed four goldfish. My sons name them, so first of all we had to have a toilet burial for King-King. Then one for John-John. Then for King-King the Second, and yes, you guessed it… Next came John-John the Second as well.

Brassy Minnow

Minnow Murder
I love having a fish tank. I like the water bubbling away, the fish swimming (I imagine happily) about the tank and the colourful water plants swaying in the current created by the bubbles… So I persisted and moved onto minnows. They’re those little fish you probably caught in creeks as a kid. Remember how they’d live in a bucket for ages?

Well my pampered (but not too pampered) minnows started as a school of 10. Over the past month I’ve lost an average of one per week. There are only three remaining now and of those three, two are permanently stuck on their side. Each time I go to scoop them out and give them a burial at sea their little fins start fluttering. Poor little things.

I wonder if they’re in pain? Or maybe just bewildered? Must be very annoying at the very least to be stuck on your side.

I don’t know a whole lot about Fung Shui but I remember reading somewhere that it’s good energy or whatever the lingo is, to have moving water in the house. But I have to tell you, it’s starting to get me down. It’s like I have a miniature model of genocide happening in my livingroom. So I’m pretty sure this is not raising the vibration of the house.

You know how some parents go to great lengths to replace deceased pets with identical replacements? Well now my boys just ask nonchalantly if there are anymore dead fish today. Hope I’m not raising cold, hard war correspondents!

So, in my house there have been 10 deaths in the past few months… Oh and that’s not counting the cockroaches who appear dead from time to time. Why do cockroaches always die on their backs with their legs in the air? It seems like a lot of effort. I guess you don’t want to go over on your back too much as a bug… Looks a bit tricky to get back on your feet… Guess the roaches that die don’t… Get back on their feet that is!! …Or maybe it’s more of a swoon… leg held up to antennae in a tragic proclamation of “oh why me, is my life to amount to naught?”

Anyway that’s the end of my sad little story about the quiet death of goldfish (and minnows and cockroaches).

And another reminder that my extremely scientific, hard hitting, controversial and far from trivial blog posts will soon be moving to leonieorton.com. Love you to follow me over there.

Oh, and if, like me you’ve always wondered exactly why cockroaches always die on their backs well curiosity got the better of me and I went hunting for answers. Here’s what I came up with…

Straight Dope: This one is from 1983 apparently! Not quite sure how that works. Pretty sure the web wasn’t invented way back then… Wow in 1983 I was busy playing in dust during a drought and wondering why mixed tapes always had so many bad songs on them.

Completing something is a fancy feat indeed! Continuing is another thing altogether. Why is it that it’s so difficult to change a bad habit or create a new ‘good’ habit? Ways of being do not shift easily.

…I completed my 30 day writing challenge a few days ago, although you wouldn’t know it since I didn’t announce it, didn’t write about it, in fact I didn’t… well… write! I got to 30 days and immediately figuratively let my belt out and relaxed slothfully on the couch!

Well here I am back again after a brief hiatus to pick up the pen and get back in the saddle…

Completion in itself is an achievement for which I am un-humbly, unabashedly patting myself rather chuffedly on the back for.

How are you at finishing stuff? I am not so great. I’m an enthusiastic starter. All full of promise and speed, but I often run out of steam. A combination of procrastination and self-serving justifications stop me.

Why do we do it to ourselves? How frigging great does it feel to actually finish something. THIS GREAT <————————————-> !!!

Completion!

So in this instance, I did it. Did my 30 days. And what do I have to show for it? Well had a whole lotta fun doing it, did something I’ve been talking about doing for a long time, got ‘Freshly Pressed’ (front feature page of WordPress.com), lots of new subscribers, lots of new kindred connections, and slightly toned writing muscles. But best of all and above the rest… I got to finish something and it feels good; satisfying.

Words are powerful, your word is the most powerful of all. If you can do what you say you’re going to do, creation happens merely by uttering the words. As soon as you say you’re going to do something, if you are absolutely your word it is created in that moment of utterance. Sounds like a tall order but how cool to think you can create anything, do anything, be anything just by putting it into words.

I love words!

So now that the ‘challenge is over’ the new challenge it continuity.

The jury is out on exactly how long it takes to form a new habit. It seems to be human nature that new habits don’t stick easily. Just think about how difficult it is to make a lasting change… a new diet, a dietary restriction, regular exercise, morning meditation, etc, etc.

There are certain things most of us do with clockwork regularity. They are ingrained. Brushing your teeth for example.

My mother was a dental nurse so she was an absolute toothbrush nazi. I remember one night at a party towards the end of high school I called to ask if I could stay the night at my friend’s house. She said no. Reason: I didn’t have my toothbrush!

Tooth Brushing

These days I pathologically cannot skip brushing them AT LEAST twice a day.

So then, do habits have to be formed early on in order to stick for a lifetime? And then do they need a few years of repetition before they become hardwired?

I wonder how long?

I wonder how long I would have to write for an hour a day for it to become inconceivable to not do it?

Admittedly towards the end I did start to feel a ‘need’ to do it rather than a ‘have’ to do it.

However I quickly dropped that short-lived habit… And now I’m back in the saddle starting from scratch. I wonder? Or is it a case of two steps forward and only one step back? Hope so.

It’s taken me years to finally get around to reading it. It looked dry and boring so I always avoided it but it’s actually pretty interesting. I’m only one habit in so I may change my tune but I have to say that for all his talk of being aware of the subjectivity of personal paradigms he seems to be setting up his own paradigm as gospel. Anyway, that’s all on that… If you have an opinion on this point I’d love to hear it.

Covey talks about how habits are formed. He says that it takes an intersection of 1. knowledge, 2. skill and 3. desire to form a habit. All these three elements must be present in order to form a habit that sticks. He goes on to say that the change that you want to make by acquiring the new habit must be

“motivated by a higher purpose, by the willingness to subordinate what you think you want now for what you want later.”

For me the important note here is “higher purpose”… If the new habit you want to acquire doesn’t contain this element there will be no drive for it to continue.

And that whole short-term pain for long-term gain thing is interesting isn’t it… It is definitely a learnt aspect of human behaviour. Do you remember being a kid and being told to wait for stuff. A day, a week, even just five minutes was TORTURE… And forget even trying to conceptualise the idea of a year.

My boys are the same. I tell them to wait and it’s as if I’ve told them to chop off their fingers. Pure torture.

There’s lots of info on forming habits. Scarilly, this article says it takes up to 254 days to automate a new habit. Wow, sounds like a mission… Although, perhaps I have my answer to the “how long” I asked above… Up to 254 days to automate a new habit! … Well, 30 days down, 224 to go!

What is a new habit you would like to stick?

Please note that in a few days I will relocate my blogging to my professional writing site @ leonieorton.com

I’m sure you’ve heard of Vision Boards – collages of pictures and words of things you want to have or be. But have you heard of subconscious vision boards (SVB)? They’re not made in your sleep; they’re made fully awake by your passionate, creative, inner self.

Traditional vision boards are based in conscious thought and their purpose is to reprogram your subconscious with subliminal messaging. When you look at it like this it’s a little like clever advertising in a way… You buy it but in the end you’re left wondering if it’s what you really wanted.

I recommend circumnavigating your conscious mind and gaining access to your subconscious and letting that lead your direction. I’m basing this on the belief that our mind is like an iceberg. The conscious is the visible tip… The subconscious is the real driving force – the bulk of the iceberg under the surface. So if you really want to manifest your direction and express your true self then your answers lie here.

That’s a lot of consciousness babble. So let’s get down to brass tacks, or paper and scissors as is the case may be… Let me explain how I arrived at this idea and how you can make your own SVB…

Coffee!

I made my first SVB a few months ago. I did set out to do it consciously in the beginning. But soon, with a floor full of old magazines and a plunger full of coffee I lost myself in the process… Well actually found myself to be exact.

I flicked through the magazines (copies of Vogue Living, Gourmet Traveller and other pretty pages) initially looking for certain items, but soon and easily I got lost in the aesthetics and feel of it all. The colour, the layout, the collage elements, the people and the places…

I began cutting out anything that jumped off the page, suspending my conscious thought brain department and engaging the creative team of neurons. It was such a pleasure to sit on the floor, legs akimbo, snip, snip, snipping and sip, sip sipping.

Pretty soon I had a delightful pile of colourful snips… After some time I looked around me and noticed I was sitting in a pile of

I abandoned all ideas of conscious vision boarding and lost myself in the colours, aesthetics, transporting places, and the simple pleasure of creating something pretty.

I assembled my snippets on a sheet of cardboard. Some pictures were left whole, other’s had their outline cut out. I then spent time arranging, rearranging, layering, matching, contrasting…collaging until I had a finished SVB.

Once it was finished (well, figuratively… Da Vinci said that “art is never finished, just abandoned”) I sat back to look at it… I hadn’t looked at the forest yet, just each individual tree so it was a revelation to sit back and look at the entire creation.

My SVB

I looked upon it, and then felt drawn into it, like a swirling pool filled with flowers.

The more I look at it now months after I made it, the more I realise the pictures I chose are reflections of passions, pleasures and plans. Quite a few of the images in my vision board have come to fruition.

And other elements have confirmed things that I love but haven’t made much time for. Since creating this, many of these things have become more prevalent in my life.

Make your own Subconscious Vision Board

Materials

Magazines
Scissors
Glue
A sheet of cardboard (A1 is a good size)

Method

This is very scientific so I’m going to step it out for you:

Find a quiet place with plenty of floor space.

Make a cup or pot of your favourite hot beverage. (I guess it could also be cold, I think serious work such as this requires a steaming cup but this step is flexible.)

Skillfully ‘dump’ your magazines in front of you.

Grab your scissors in one hand and start leafing through the nearest magazine with your other.

Disengage your conscious mind and let your subconscious direct you to snip what it is attracted to. Don’t think about it too much or second guess, just snip.

Make a lot of mess. The more the better.

Once you’ve got a pleasing pile of snips go through and decide how they will be refined for the finished board. Some pictures you will want to leave whole…as a square or rectangle for example. Others you will want to cut out as outlines. Anything from a flower to a chainsaw for example.

Then arrange them all on the board, until you get them looking how you want them. (Again, don’t over-think this, just flow with it.)

Once you’re happy with the arrangement stick it all down.

Take a long sip of your beverage, take a sigh break, then…

Sit back and admire your masterpiece.

Conclusion

A vision board created in this way will give you information from your subconscious. So look at it and think about how it makes you feel. What elements are recurring? What themes are present? Over time keep checking in with your vision board and see what has unfolded that at the time of creation was not yet manifested. It’s quite an amazing process.

So, my advice on vision boards is, rather than seeking to control your subconscious with subliminal imaging and affirmations, be led by your subconscious which will put you in touch with the true you.

…And yes it is a possibility that none of this is true and my theories are completely faulty but I can absolutely 100% guarantee that you will make a delightfully colourful mess and that it will be fun until you get to the cleaning up part.This is Day 28 of my 30 day writing challengeinspired by Matt Cutts on TED Talks.

It crept up ever so slowly and imperceptibly. I wasn’t even aware of it. I limit the amount of time my children spend on it…

But, I’ve realised I spend A LOT of time in front of a computer screen. I work from home and am self-employed so my hours are flexible. What this means is there are many hours in the day from dawn to dusk that I can spend staring at a screen.

And because I have a notebook I can also wander around the house with it, sit in a cafe or even go to the beach with it! I’ve noticed my partner and I stare at our computer screens a lot more than we gaze at each other!

I have strong held beliefs that my children shouldn’t watch too much TV; that it will impede their learning ability and stifle their creativity. And yet here I am staring at a computer screen for a large part of each day. I give myself a smug little pat on the back for watching next to no T.V. But really, a screen is a screen, right?

If I don’t run it through my values I easily justify it, telling myself it’s work, it’s informative, it’s keeping up with what’s going on in the world. Heck, it’s even socialising. Isn’t it?

Recently I was sitting in a member’s lounge at an airport and realised that pretty much everyone, was staring at a screen of some description and there was very little human interaction.

I read a fantastic blog post a couple of years ago. Unfortunately I can’t recall the name of it (but here’s a link to a similar article) or where I saw it but it was by a woman who was having an ironic poke at herself for being a bad mother because everyone in her house stared at a computer screen for a large portion of each day. She had a funny photo showing her on her laptop computer, one of her children watching TV, the other playing a Gameboy, and yet another sitting at a desktop computer. All absorbed in digital land, with no human interaction.

It’s an interesting phenomenon isn’t it. TV has been the long-standing interaction killer but it seems this is increasingly being taken over by computers. Especially now that social media and online dating are part of the 21st century landscape.

And I notice more and more, the most innovative, hipsters of the digital world getting a name for going offline. It’s like these trailblazers of the online world are now getting a name as the trailblazers that teach how to get OFF-line. Ironic.

Gwen Bell refers to this as a “digital sabbatical”. I’m not sure if she coined this phrase. I also noticed Justin Wright using the term. Both pretty cool, adventurous sorts. In marketing speak… Innovators.

I just searched ‘digital sabbatical’ online to see who else is using this term and came across Tammy Strobel’s blog ‘Rowdy Kittens’. She writes about downsizing and living more sustainably. It’s an interesting blog about how less is more in the happiness stakes. Check it out for some interesting reading.

She too discusses the phenomenon of screen time. She quotes The Chartered Institute for IT which explains that the internet is appealing to so many because in provides

“an indirect, enabling and empowering role leading to a greater sense of freedom and control which in turn leads to greater life satisfaction.”

She also quotes Business Week who note that…

“scrolling through e-mail and punching out text messages fire up the dopamine-reward system, unleashing a pleasure-inducing hit that for an estimated 6% of Internet users has become clinically addictive.”

Ouch, something to watch out for. So when is enough, enough?

After these couple of quotes she mentions that she too has committed to taking a digital sabbatical in order to get away from all the distractions and get her book finished. She also talks about unplugging and spending time in the ‘real world’.

So what do you think? Most of us with children limit the amount of time our children spend staring at a screen… Yet we spend most of our day staring at a screen of some description. Think about it. How much time do you spend looking at TV, a computer or your phone?

It’s largely due to computing and telecommunications apparently making life easier but is it at the cost of ‘real life’ and ‘real human interaction’?… Is it a case of social or anti-social media?

So, my eight year old desktop computer had finally turned up its heels and insisted on retirement. Yup, made me an offer I couldn’t refuse… It just up and died. Sure the writing was on the wall… The fans were blown, it was full of dust, it was already having the odd aneurism… Finally one day it just didn’t turn on. So, finally I made the enforced but wonderful transition from desktop to laptop and from pc to Mac… And it really is true – there’s no going back!!

I’d not long had this shiny little darling with all my work files, photos and life on it, that It and I flew to Melbourne for the weekend. It wasn’t until I’d been at my friend’s house for a few hours that I realised I didn’t know where it was. I searched high and low, trying to deny the knowing that it was lost. You know that feeling when you know something but you don’t want it to be true? Yes, that’s how I felt. Denial about being in denial.

My very gracious friends ran me back out to the airport where I retraced my steps… Nothing. I checked baggage claim. They hadn’t seen it. It was a Friday night so Lost and Found was closed until Monday morning. Argh, soooooo frustrating. I had a huge sinking feeling in my stomach and felt like such an idiot.

I spent the rest of that night feeling sorry for myself. Thankfully by the next day I’d let it go and chalked it up to experience and stupidity. I had a fun weekend with great friends and got a bit of mileage out of my hapless fortune.

On Monday morning I returned to the airport to catch my flight home. Although I’d resigned myself to the fact that it was gone, being back at the scene of the crime and with Lost and Found open, I built up hope again. I checked all Lost and Found departments and none had seen my laptop.

Silly me for getting my hopes up. It just meant I had to come back down to earth with a painful thud… I threw my arms up in the air and lamented “come on universe”!

By now I was getting better at letting go of expectation, so in only five minutes this time I’d gotten over it… Next destination, coffee!

My friend and I had just sat down with our coffees for a few last minutes of chatting when I got a call from Lost and Found to say that a cleaner had just handed in a laptop and they were pretty sure it was mine. My heart did a little leap of happiness and I tore through the crowd to their office… It probably looked like scene from a cheesy movie where a lover runs through the crowd, hair billowing behind to meet a long-lost lover! Except that I was running towards my laptop.

I arrived, clapped eyes on the laptop and shouted “Yes! It’s mine!!” I gave the woman a hug and left a cash reward for the finder, then skipped back to my friend. She couldn’t believe it!

Wow, how lucky was I?! I learnt a few lessons from that little episode:

1. Be present and in the moment – otherwise you leave stuff lying about

2. Stressing, regretting and beating yourself up has absolutely no positive outcome

3. The world is a decent place

4. I love my laptop!

A few days ago I wrote about non-desk writing locations in my post “Ditch the Desk”. Now that I’ve explained the affectionate connection I have to my lovely inanimate object I’d like to share some of this week’s writing locations with you in pictures… Starring you know who!!